To Grasp a Star
by Ione
Summary: Loki, younger Prince of Asgard, can easily understand Lady Jane Foster's attractions. She is beautiful, intelligent, and passionate. But she is meant for his older brother Thor; a man neither intelligent nor passionate. It is not an ideal situation, but he is in control. Or he is until the moment Lady Foster asks for his help. Arranged marriage AU, with a twist. ONESHOT.


**To Grasp a Star**

A gift fic for chthonic-woman

She was in the library again.

Loki was starting to think she was doing this on purpose.

As usual, she had surrounded herself with the cream of Asgard's intelligentsia, holding forth at the center of a knot of scientists and archivists, brandishing a book as though it were a marshal's baton. In a crowd of twenty, she was the only woman. In a crowd of twenty, she was the only one who looked even half-awake.

Loki watched her from where he sat in the shadow of two shelves, ensconced behind his own wall of research. In the weeks since her arrival, he had not known a moment's peace. It seemed incredible that such a lovely woman—all honeyed hair, fine features, and smooth skin—should take such an interest in such heretical theories. It seemed even more incredible that she should have the mind to comprehend them at all.

But what was perhaps most surprising was that Lady Jane Foster had been brought to the palace for the express purpose of marrying a prince of Asgard, and she seemed to have no inclination to get _on_ with it.

"Such ideas are preposterous, my Lady!" the head librarian threw up his hands, "They are a violation of everything we hold dear!"

"Should we hold the illogical inviolate simply because it is what the illogical have always believed?" was her brisk rejoinder.

A deep current of disgust rumbled through the group.

"We will not be spoken to in that fashion," another said, "not by—"

"Mind yourself, Fen," the sudden presence of their Prince, even the lesser Prince, sent a hush through the crowd. "Lady Foster is an honored guest, and she will have your respect."

A rumble of "yes, your Highness" vibrated through the group. Soon after, they dispersed in bent-headed shame.

This was the closest he had been to her since her arrival. If he moved his hand one inch, he would brush the heavy brocade of her elaborate gown.

"Your theories," he said, "are not preposterous."

Lady Jane did not startle at the sudden blurt of his voice. She merely looked up at him with a broad, toothy smile; a smile so infectious in its enthusiasm that Loki lost the thread of his next remark and could only wait for her to speak.

"I did not think so either," she cried, darting forward. He had no time to react before she had taken his hand in hers—small, slight, yet possessed of an undeniable wiry power—and towed him forward to the table laden with her research. "Perhaps your Royal Highness might do me the favor of examining my research?"

"Such formality is not necessary, Lady Jane," he replied, "Are you not to be my sister-in-law?" He forced himself to speak with practiced ease. His smile, however, did not rest naturally on his face. "We ought to be friends."

"Then perhaps you should not avoid me in the way you do, sir," she turned away, "And as to the rest...well. We shall see."

Her enigmatic smile did not make his heart lurch. It did _not_. Loki's older brother might be a simple man of simple tastes, but he was handsome, kind—in his own, absentminded way—but most importantly, his charms had never failed to woo any woman living. Once Thor truly set his mind to obey their father's edict and join Lady Jane's estates to their own kingdom, she would be lost.

Lost forever, though standing right beside him.

"If you look at my preliminary sketches, I think the evidence speaks for itself," Jane had drawn forward a sheaf of meticulous star charts, "With the invention of Galliani's telescope, the heavens open to us as never before. Following his research on planetary bodies, I have observed the motions of several small objects around our most distant moon."

"Heavenly bodies that do not move around Midgard?"

"Indeed," Jane's eyes were afire with delight; flecks of gold within the hazel made them blaze in the bright sun of midday, "Our beliefs of the centrality of Midgard cannot be true, you see. Not if my theory—and the theories of those who actually _observe_ the skies—is correct."

It was not in Loki's nature to admit himself impressed by the intelligence of others. Yet to damp the flame of her spirit by his hypocritical apathy would be a crime too great to commit.

So he avoided the conundrum entirely.

"Why do you ask my opinion on this theory, my Lady?" he asked. "My scholarly applications have never reached so high as yours do. I am concerned with how to manipulate matter on this earth, not on any other."

"Yet you are a scholar," Jane replied, "You understand the rigorous methods academia demands for veracity. If you took an interest in my project, your assistance would be invaluable."

"The All-Father's palace is full of academics, the majority of whom you have already consulted," he shook his head, a smirk rising, "There must be some reason you seek to add _me_ to their ranks, regardless of what such marked preference will do to your reputation."

"Reputation," she scoffed, unimpressed by his idle tease. "Mankind has the tools and capability to reach into space for answers to our questions—for the first time in recorded history _—_ and you would have me fear for my reputation? If you are so worried about what others think of you," her bold gaze was disarming, "then _your_ reputation is far afield of your true character."

He laughed. "You have a gift for argument. It will not serve you well in your marriage."

"That will be my concern," she replied primly. "Will you help me?"

"What help do you require?"

"Mount Valha is the highest peak in your kingdom. It will be the best place to set up a camp for long-term observation," Jane's voice had gone from dreamlike to businesslike in an instant; she rifled through her papers, "I have already drawn up an estimation of equipment—most of which I have—and manpower, but what I need most is a credible excuse for being away from the palace for a month.

"Now," her tone did not change from matter-of-fact, but her mouth twitched at the corners, "if what they say of you is true, you could easily find a way to get me out of here. Perhaps, on a tour of Asgard?"

"What do you think Thor would make of all this? For his intended to abandon him for weeks just prior to the announcement of their engagement?"

"For the last time," she said, clipped and controlled, "Prince Thor is my concern. He would be welcome to join us, if he liked. But you are the only one who could convince him to do so."

"Very well," he admitted, "And if I were to help you, what would be my reward."

"The truth, your Highness," she said. "Would that not be enough?"

It was not. The truth had never done Loki any favors. But what would be sufficient recompense for this effort was the chance it would give him to understand the Lady Foster. In understanding her, surely he would be able to then extract these distracting thoughts of her from his heart.

Surely.

()()()

Staring at the night sky from Mount Valha's peak was like standing at the bottom of the ocean, watching faint moonlight illuminate the waves from above. The sensation of bone-deep peace, of ancient still calm, was an opiate, heavy and drugging. Loki stood at the precipice, watching the dark abyss below, feeling the cold wind whip over his skin.

He was invisible, insignificant...supreme.

In a place like this, anything was possible. He could make anything possible.

He turned back towards the little campsite where Jane was hunched over, staring avidly through one of her three telescopes. Everyone else—their few guards, her handmaid—was asleep; the fires banked against the night. What little light seeped from the coals was not enough to war with the crystalline illumination of the moons above.

Jane darted back between the eyepiece and her journal like a bird, marking coordinates and adding little details to the ongoing series of sketches that filled her notebooks. No motion was wasted, no breath was spared for the non-essential. Tonight was the last night of their three-week absence from the palace; the last chance Jane had to document the proof for her theory.

Loki knew better than to disturb her in the middle of her work, so he merely pulled up a stool and watched, pulling his cloak tightly against the chill. She worked without such an encumbrance, seeming to feel no discomfort when occupied with the wonders above. Even the long, heavy sleeves of her gown were rolled away from delicate wrists, and her neck was free from the elaborate dressed hairstyle so favored at court.

In this environment, alone among barren, scoured rock and lit only by starlight, Lady Jane was elemental, alive, and so beautiful that Loki could no longer deny how much he wished to stay there with her, forever.

But there were some things that could never be. When once his goal had been to eliminate this woman from his soul, all he wished to do now was watch and attempt to remember, to save each of these precious moments in his memory. They would be all he would have after Jane became Thor's wife.

"Finished!"

He started, despite himself, as Jane dragged up a stool beside him and threw herself into it. In the cold she was a beacon of warmth, radiating passion from ever pore.

"Do you think it enough to sway the old patricians who scoffed?" he took the offered notebook, marveling at her meticulous detail, her even script. Weeks of observation, calculation, extrapolation...it was a masterwork.

"Perhaps," she said, "but it hardly matters. It is done."

She sat silent, chin tilted up and eyes ever-wide, not moving one instant from the stars. Her lips trembled before a sharp swallow stilled them. Jane was nothing if not a mistress of self-control.

Loki's own self-control was worn threadbare. "So you will go to your marriage without a qualm, will you?" he spat, "You will allow your parents and mine to lock your mind away?"

Jane stared at him, the bitterness in his voice more shocking to her than the frigid air. "I do not believe my marriage will require me to shackle my mind."

"Then you misjudge Thor," Loki could not stand to be near her any longer; not when she was about to be ripped away. He stood, pacing restlessly, avoiding the eyes that tracked him.

"Perhaps I do," she said, slowly. "And perhaps, so do you."

"What is it draws you to him? He is handsome, yes. Charming, when he wishes," how Loki knew his fickle charm! "But he would not understand this," he gestured to her telescopes, her sky.

"Very little draws me to Thor," she smiled. "And nothing draws him to me. He and I spent a fortnight's worth of evenings in company together and I never discerned any interest from him. My parents may have to resign themselves to disappointment on that score. I will never be Queen of Asgard."

"The contract has already been signed," Loki could not understand her willful naivete, "With it, your fate was sealed."

"But you," she stopped, peaceful smile fading at his obvious distress, "you were present at the negotiations. Surely you understand my meaning?"

"You are here to marry a Prince of Asgard," he said, booted heel grinding hard against stone as he turned again, "You have no choice in the matter."

"I have all the choice!" she cried. "Yes, I must marry a Prince of Asgard, as you say. Do you not also answer to that title?"

He could not speak. He could barely breathe. His feet faltered, stuttering to an ungainly stop.

Jane rose, approaching him with hands raised as though he were an animal to be soothed.

"All this time I had worried you thought me forward," she seemed caught between the urge to laugh and cry. "I have never been able to conceal my fervor for things that interest me. My father says it is one of my greatest faults. Have I..." and now her eyelids fluttered, holding back a stardust gleam of tears, "Have I misread you?"

At his continuing silence, she retreated, folding in on herself.

She gasped. "I have, have I not? You do not care for me, and I have made a fool of—"

As Loki's lips met hers, a startled tear slid down her cheek, smearing between them. Their first kiss was a messy affair, neither of them composed enough to relax into it or close their eyes. Green met hazel, colors muted by shadow, awe unconcealed in their wide expressions. Jane squeaked and pulled back after a stunned moment, one hand lifting to her mouth.

"Your," Loki's voice was rough. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Your conclusions were accurate. There is no need to doubt your considerable powers of observation."

"Good," she said, faintly. She pressed her lower lip with one finger. "Then...perhaps you should kiss me again," was it the moonlight, or was there a sly smile growing beneath her finger? "For science?"

He could feel the grin blossom on his own lips as he tilted her chin up, "Whenever you wish, my Jane."


End file.
